I see people as things that go bump in
the day.
Anything that there is, I see some
other way.
I see monsters on top of the bed,
My whole life, being told that it's all
in my head.
I see hidden facts in patterns, and
hidden facts as recipes.
I see a massive earth-hive slaving to
support economies,
and we, the harried, eunuch workers,
with our hands over our eyes.
One of the two of us is wrong, and
neither way would me surprise.
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